because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

molting

barefoot in the snow, pre-sun. icewater-drawn dawn baths & midnight
velvet across a slightly shattered mirror. dreamcatching by hand. from
a hammock by the water, she fig-picks the yellow twilights out of late
August, pulls laughter out of the lake with old cane poles. trawling
for blackberry-stained summer-skins, bartering breadcrumbs for bor-
rowed affection. a peeling front porch in grey reflects moonset on nights
as transparent as mother’s white nightgown (like the one i fished from
the rag box to cloak the scarlet & the steam, that first time). like head-
lights through dark bedroom windows. like January frost on fever.

Wonderful piece… love the bundles of fruit filled days, and nights (smiles)… my favorite lines ‘she fig-picks the yellow twilights out of late
August, pulls laughter out of the lake with old cane poles’.

Artful imagery. Even though I am no literary critic(according to the snobs) , I know I am correct in this assessment because it made the film in my mind’s cinema fill the screen up in there wherever. Imagery. The poet’s religion.

Interesting decision on form, using the paragraph here–it rather compresses, and for me, hides the impact of the words–all of which were brilliant and apposite, as well as imaginative and thematically right, the last lines in particular. Excellent poem.

Thanks for the feedback. I was kinda experimenting with the form here– the piece was originally done as a triptych, and I did cut and smush into a single prose paragraph what I thought were the strongest images– maybe that’s why you get the sense of compression. Still a work in progress! 🙂

delicious is right. couldn’t wait to read this twice. i love the beautiful little ornament that is ‘that first time.’ just love that detail in the middle of it all. to me, that just made it come alive.